Unhinged
by b-mystique
Summary: Tag to "He's Back".You're beautiful," Harvey said suddenly. "You're strong, and because you're strong, sometimes people think you're invincible. You're still human, Jessica. You're allowed to be human. You're allowed to hurt."He's just trying to get into your head." "I know that," she practically snapped before exhaling and meeting Harvey's eyes. "But why is it working?" she said s


_**A/N:**__ Ummm, still processing "He's Back". It was a great episode. I don't know what this is really, just…something. They may be OOC. I don't even know. On the downside, this is really angsty…it just came out that ...I have no idea what this is. On the plus, I still wish you guys a Happy Valentine's Day and a new Suits is on tonight! Yay!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Suits and I don't own the characters. I did request that Harvey Specter be my Valentine but that's still pending. Errors are my own._

~o~

She walked into her apartment, her body felt worn and heavy as she shouldered the door closed behind her and stood there, back pressed against the ornate door, flicking the lights on so that she could take in her surroundings. Her apartment was her sanctuary. It was her home away from home, because anyone remotely close to knowing her realized quickly enough that Pearson and Hardman was what she ate, slept, and breathed. She chuckled bitterly at that. The layout was fairly spacious. She had paid a good grip to make it so, and really, there could be room for more, a husband…kids, maybe even a furry dog or cat. There was room for more in her life than the firm, wasn't there?

She chided herself, pissed that Daniel Hardman of all people had sent her on a tailspin. She glanced at the couch, which looked all too inviting with its plushness and guaranteed comfort, but a shower sounded positively delightful as well. She eyed the kitchen nook and settled on a bottle of wine instead. She loathed Daniel Hardman, there was no questioning that, but it ran deeper than just a professional hate. It was personal. It was deeply rooted; because he did more than screw her over…he hurt her. He hurt her deep. He was her mentor, he was the one person that reached a hand out and pulled her up the ranks because he seen in her that she was worthy of it, and no one else would have taken the risk on the feisty, focused, and fierce black girl from the Bronx. There was a time where she would have done anything for him, hell there was a time when she probably had. Her own naiveté and blind devotion is what got her into the predicament to begin with, she got herself, her firm, an her people into this predicament and that thought gnawed at and was slowly destroying her, almost as quickly as Monica, Daniel, Allison, and God knows who else was destroying her and the firm.

She kicked her shoes off and poured herself a glass of wine. She didn't even bother re-corking it as she guzzled more than she should have down and refilled her glass again. If any night called for her to drown her sorrows, that night most certainly did. She replayed the deposition over again in her head, for the millionth time. She could practically hear the click-clickety of the court reporter's keyboard, she could see Daniel's smug expression, and smell Harvey's aftershave. Each word he uttered was like a dagger, daggers that somehow dug deeper every time he opened his mouth. Against everything in her she was offended on so many levels. As a woman she found it appalling that Daniel accused her of being the stereotypical overly-zealous, work-oriented, cold modern day female. He shredded her for being a post-modern stereotype while chiding and berating her for not being an archaic one. He mocked her for being calculated and focused, and yet reduced her to being stereotypically emotional enough to take things to heart. He demeaned her in the way that only a woman can truly be demeaned, attacking her intellect, her beauty, her ability to bear children, and even had the audacity to imply that she harbored feelings for him, that her firing of Monica was out of pure jealousy than anything else, and she was livid, she was beyond livid. She felt her blood boiling at the mere thought, because it wasn't simply the absurdity and preposterousness of what he said that niggled away at her…it was the fact that interwoven in all of that cruelty and harshness was a stark reality and truth that she had to confront when it was shoved in her face. There were days when she was inclined to be apologetic for being forty-five and not having the idealistic American dream. She wasn't married with unruly but endearing teenagers, balancing marriage, motherhood, and the demands of a high power career. Her dating life was rather abysmal and had been for a few years, and her social life was every bit as inconsistent at times as well. She was expected to have it all, to balance it all, because having one thing over the other, having marriage and family over a career or having a career over marriage and family wasn't enough. It made her somehow less than, and subject to criticism and scrutiny. Most days she was perfectly okay with her job being her home, and her colleagues being her family. Most days she was rational and logical rather than emotional. Most days she wasn't this damn introspective, and she certainly wouldn't have allowed the likes of Daniel fucking Hardman make her feel insecure and inadequate. But then again, most days she wasn't nearly as stressed and on edge. Because her firm was her home and the people there were her family, and it thriving was her legacy, and the position she found herself in now…with everything and everyone being in jeopardy, meant that maybe she got this far and put in all this hard work, and did what so many told her she wouldn't be able to, and it was all for absolutely nothing. She couldn't lose it all, because there was a startling truth in the fact that it was all she had. Her home was under attack, her family was under attack and like a mother protecting her young, if she didn't do anything else she protected herself, her people, and her firm. She didn't understand why she was somehow becoming the bad guy for taking on that mentality in this. She shook her head, sighed, and was halfway to downing another glass when the melodies of Marvin Gaye echoed through the kitchen, emanating from her phone she left on the table.

She eyed it with apprehension. She did not feel up to another back and forth with Harvey, and she certainly couldn't take any more criticism for the day. He'd taken a nice chunk out of her an hour before. It wasn't that his intentions weren't well meant, but the irony is, like Daniel, what he was saying was like being slapped in the face with the cold, hard truth. If she wasn't so pissed at the world, she probably would have told him she was impressed and proud. She glanced at the screen, rolled her eyes at the picture of them both at a baseball game, which he had apparently set as the picture ID. For the love of God, she never knew how and when he got ahold of her phone. She slid the red button to the side, effectively rejecting it, but before she could place the delicate mobile device down, it was ringing again. She rejected it again, this time powering it off in hopes of shutting everyone and everything out for the rest of the night, if only for that night. She shuffled over to the sofa, the bottle of wine dangling loosely from her fingertips, her half-filled glass posed just beneath her lips for another taste when there was a pounding at the door. It startled her, and the wine sloshed over the rim of the glass and ended up on her carpet.

"Shit!" she eyed the pink stain on her white carpet and let out an aggravated sigh. Her frustration boiled over and she could feel the prickle of tears against her eyelids, before a few stray tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"I thought I was the only one who rejected your calls," Harvey's muffled voice floated through the door. "I gotta say that's kinda rude."

She wiped at her face, narrowed her eyes, and growled, as she shuffled to the door, pressing her head against it tiredly. "Harvey, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Are you crying?" the humor in his voice was instantly replaced with a concern and she could only guess that he sounded positively taken aback.

"No," she said quickly, her voice thick. She cleared her throat as discreetly as she could. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you going to let me in?" He ignored her question, his voice casual and typical Harvey despite the way they had previously left things at the elevator.

"No, "she answered dryly, taking another sip of wine as she looked up at the ceiling and silently wondered what the hell she ever did to have her life falling apart the way it seemed to be. "Go home, Harvey."

"Ouch, you're in rare form today Jessica," he observed, all the teasing out of his voice.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped. She ran a hand over her forehead in agitation, feeling utterly stupid for talking through a door but not entirely in the mood to see him face to face, or be talking at all for that matter.

"I can pick the lock you know," the teasing tone was back but there was something deeper, she could hear it.

"I'd like to see you try," she muttered under her breath, as she rested her weary body against the doorframe and sighed. "I could call the police you know…" she contested.

"You could," he responded amicably. She wasn't certain but she could swear she heard scratching at the doorknob. "But we both know you won't."

She damn near snarled at his arrogance, and irritation rose up again, because it sucked, it truly disconcerted her to no end that everyone around her was so dangerously close to knowing her well. She wondered when she became so transparent, but more specifically she wondered how she could make it stop. She thrived on operating under a veil of mystique, being enigmatic was her thing. It's how she protected herself, its how she was so damn good at her job. If she didn't have her guard up, she couldn't protect herself. If she didn't have her emotions in check she could be destroyed. She knew that no one really understood that more than Harvey Specter, but no one subtly threw it in her face as much either.

"I don't feel like talking Harvey," she said quietly. Her actions seemed to be betraying her words however, because she slid down the doorframe until she softly hit the floor. She stretched her legs out ahead of her, placed the half empty wine glass and dwindling bottle of Pink Moscato beside her, and rested her head against the doorframe.

"I can talk enough for the both of us," he replied sarcastically, and the subtle jiggle of the doorknob didn't go unnoticed.

"And here I thought you did that already," she snapped back snarkily as she sipped on the wine and savored its sweetness as it danced across her tongue. "I'd like to be left alone." She heard him chuckle.

"Just because you let an elevator door shut in my face, thanks by the way for that, doesn't mean the conversation is over. And you were alone, in all the time it took you to get home and settled in with…" he paused for a bit and the doorknob jiggled again. "I'm guessing wine."

She furrowed her brow and scoffed quietly, eyeing the traitorous wine as though it had somehow spoken up and betrayed her.

"Hey, no need to get all huffy," his muffled voice rang through. "I assure you the wine itself, didn't betray your confidence."

They both fell silent for a bit as she closed her eyes and once again tried to shake the ongoing of the deposition out of her head. She found herself speaking before she had the right mind to stop herself. Her tongue, her inhibitions loosened from the alcohol consumption no doubt.

"He called me old," she said quietly. Her voice was vulnerable and yet defensive.

"You are not old," he replied evenly. "And we both know black don't crack."

She fought off a chuckle as she flashed to a very awkward and unquestionably uncomfortable Mike, uttering something similarly. She snorted to herself. "I can have children if I wanted them you know..."

"I know," he replied just as quickly. "But let's be fair, I don't think the world could handle the badass spawn of Jessica Pearson. I think you're doing us all a favor in not procreating."

"I'm highly intelligent," she said defensively. "I was top of my class," she responded almost indignantly, and deep down she was disappointed in herself that she felt compelled to prove herself and her capabilities. Even to someone whom she didn't have to convince of anything at all.

"You're one of the most intelligent people I've ever known," he said genuinely. There was a note of respect in his throat that she almost found a bit overwhelming, and she could tell that he wasn't merely saying it for the hell of it.

"I have sex. I mean, I-"somewhere deep down she was mortified at herself, but the warm fuzziness that the alcohol gave her somehow kept it at bay.

"I..." he interrupted her with a low chuckle. I don't doubt that one bit." There was a hint of the innuendo that they unconsciously did so well and her lip pulled up in a smirk. She could almost envision him doing the same.

Hardman's words replayed in her head again and the smirk slowly dissipated. God, she hated that smug bastard.

"You're beautiful," Harvey said suddenly. His voice was softer and quieter than it had previously been, and there was something about the unbridled sincerity that stirred up so many conflicting feelings that she was too drunk and too emotionally unhinged to even think about for longer than a second. She went back to being defensive. Disappointed and disgusted at herself for giving him the impression that she needed any affirmation.

"I'm not a helpless, sniveling dolt whose entire existence and esteem revolves around something as frivolous and inconsequential as a man telling her she's beautiful," the words came out in rapid succession, more vulnerable than fiery and powerful as she intended them to be.

"I know that," he said sincerely. "I'm merely stating a fact. You're many things Jessica Pearson, but even you need to be told that you're beautiful." His voice was a few octaves lower than usual and she could tell that he was squirmy with the intimacy and emotions that neither of them did a great job with. "You're a smart and confident women. You're strong, and because you're strong, sometimes people think you're invincible. You're still human, Jessica. You're allowed to be human. You're allowed to hurt."

The candor was startling. She found herself shifting on the floor, unsure of what to say or feel, of how to respond. Harvey didn't open up often. He didn't encourage others to do it either, and often times when things got too intimate or vulnerability hung heavy in the air, she was accustomed to him joking himself out of it. It's what he did; it's what they both did. Sarcasm was a saving grace, humor was their lifeline.

"You uh..." she cleared her throat and looked up at the doorknob. "You couldn't get in huh?"

"It's like you don't know me at all sometimes." He snorted on the other side of the door as if the idea of him not being able to do anything was ludicrous. He pushed the door open and regarded her with a smirk. The Specter special. He was still wearing his suit, but he was sitting on the floor outside of her door, nearly identical to her. His head was resting against the opposite doorframe.

"Why are you here?" she asked again, ignoring his penetrating gaze as he took her all in.

"I was concerned," he said evenly. His jaw suddenly clenched and his eyes were broody as he glared almost through her. She shuddered under his glare and sighed.

"Careful Harvey, you almost sound as though you care," she joked lightly, the chuckle that came out of her throat was unrecognizable even to her. She felt like she was slowly losing her mind. Maybe the wine wasn't a great idea after all.

"I do care Jess," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're my friend."

She didn't look at him, but it didn't mean she couldn't feel the weight of his stare as it bore through her. She wanted to reach over and smack him. She wanted her Harvey back, the Harvey that distracted her with witticisms and snark, the one who wasn't so sullen or serious. The Harvey that wasn't so blatant with how perceptive he was. She wanted the Harvey that wasn't so damn composed. Composed…she mulled that around a bit as she thought of what he was doing and shook her head.

"I'm your lawyer, not your husband," he echoed the words he said before and she rolled her eyes. "But I'm your friend too. Just because I couldn't respond to that jackass, doesn't mean I didn't want to." He was still weighing her down with his stare as she occupied herself by clicking her fingernails against the glass of wine beside her hand. It suddenly disappeared from within her reach, and she looked up to see Harvey sipping on it himself, a slow smirk spreading across his face over the fact that he got her attention.

"He's just trying to tie together the cases," he took another sip of the wine, nodded his approval and refilled the glass for himself.

"I know that," she said evenly as she snatched the bottle out of his hand, frowned at the loss of her glass and took a swig out of the bottle.

"He's just trying to get into your head…"

"I know that," she practically snapped before exhaling and meeting Harvey's eyes. "It's what he does, mind warfare. He's trying to get into all of our heads. I know that," she paused and once again her loosened inhibitions got the better of her. "But why is it working?" she said softly. She sighed, because the way he looked at her and swallowed thickly before distracting himself with drinking, told her that he didn't have an answer.

"Were you really in love with Hardman?" He asked out of the blue. She was caught off guard and a bubble of laughter escaped her.

"I can't believe that arrogant jackass would stoop so low as to even imply that I was somehow jealous of Monica because I was in love with him! That was easily the most ridiculous thing out of that entire deposition," she laughed so hard she clutched her abdomen just to catch her breath. "He was my mentor. I cared about him, but I never developed a school girl crush on him, and I resented the implication that somehow because I was a female and he was a male that it would revert to that. The idea of it never would have crossed anyone's mind if I were male. That would be like inferring that you harboring some deeper feelings are inevitable. You more than anyone, you understand the complexities of the mentor/mentee relationship."

"I certainly do," he said after a bit and there was something about his expression that was somehow unreadable to her. Though, most days he was as inscrutable as she was…or used to be.

"I know what you're doing, you know," she said quietly. "You said I was out of control," she winced as the words came out of her mouth, because part of her was still hurt by it but another part of her knew that it was entirely too close to being true. Harvey opened his mouth to say something but she shushed him before he could. "You meant I was like you."

He canted his head to the side and looked what she could only describe as perplexed. "Gee, thanks."

"You're offended…" it was a statement rather than a question, and it was more out of disbelief than anything else.

"I'm not sorry I said that," he said candidly, not even flinching when she winced at his words. "You're unhinged Jess"

"I know, Harvey," she snapped back. "But you're trying to show me that you have what it takes to be partner."

"No, I'm trying to make up for what you've been lacking in this," he ran his hands through his hair in agitation, and his body language became more tense and defensive. "That's what we do Jess, we balance each other out. If you can't be rational, if you can't be logical and composed, if you can't get a fucking grip than I have to. End of story."

"You're still upset at me over the partner thing," she said quietly, ignoring his mini-rant. Her chest begin feeling heavy, there was just too much, too damn much going on for her to deal with it all but she would because she had to. It's what she did. It's what she knew.

"No…"Harvey said abruptly, surprised that she shifted gears, adamant about not wanting to discuss it any further.

"You aren't ready Harvey. You aren't ready to be partner now." She rested her head against the door and closed her eyes. "I've always intended, hoped that you'd have your name up there some day, but when it happened, I wanted to happen based on merit. Not because our backs are against the wall and you think we need somebody up there. I want you to earn it."

"Merit? Jess-"he sighed.

"Yes, merit. Merit matters Harvey," she said exasperatedly. She was tired. Oh so very tired. "Merit is everything. I know what it's like to work damn hard to get things only for it to be dismissed. Merit is what reassures you when everyone else implies otherwise. Merit is how you know you've gotten what you've gotten because you earned it, not because of who you know, or who you do, or what you do, who you are, or what you look like," she fought off the annoyance she felt every time her achievements were dismissed because of who and what she was. "When you get the partnership, it'll be because you earned it."

"You don't think I've earned it yet," it was a statement more than it was a question and based on the tightness of his mouth and his clenched jaw she could tell he didn't agree.

"Not yet, Harvey, no, and that is just me being brutally honest," she responded. "I can't give you partnership because you're my friend-"

"I didn't get senior partner because I was your friend Jess, I earned that," he said coldly.

"No you didn't get it because of that, and yes you did earn it, even though that eventually backfired," she said bitterly. "We're already under so much scrutiny Harvey; we're already in deep shit in part because of our friendship, because of our partnership, of who we are."

"What people think doesn't matter Jessica, what people perceive doesn't matter," he muttered quietly, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Ideally, no it shouldn't, but let's be pragmatic here Harvey. Our careers thrive on perception, people matter, perception matters, and as much as you don't give a shit about what people say or think about you, it does in fact matter. That's why you aren't ready for this, that's why I can't just hand it to you. Until you can see things in that way, you won't be fully ready for it. Besides, at this point in time, making you partner doesn't help us, we'll still be in the same spot, we'll still be at risk of debt, we'll still be under attack, if anything, it'll make things worse. They're coming after us Harvey, us personally, the firm…. I just, I…" her voice cracked and she wanted to sink into the floor for being so emotional.

He pursed his lips and stared at her for a bit, as she avoided his gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him struggling to figure out what to do next. He reached out to her and pulled away, before finally reaching out again and grasping her hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze.

"You're not alone in this Jess," he said vehemently, his eyes boring into hers. "We're in this together. We'll get through this. We're going to be okay."

She wanted to believe him but she just couldn't bring herself to at that point. Tears prickled at the back of her eyelids and she unconsciously squeezed his hand back. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her head did too as she lolled it to the side in order to face him better.

"I wish I could believe you," she said so softly, so quietly that she hoped that he didn't hear her.

If he heard her he didn't say anything, only studied her as she tried her hardest to not let any tears fall. The clock in the kitchen ticked loudly as the silence between them became so long it was almost insufferable. Before she knew it, he had rather gracefully rose from his position on the floor and stepped into her apartment. He held his hand out to her, waiting for her to grab ahold of it, his expression indecipherable. She grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her up. She stumbled ungracefully and he hooked his arm around her waist to steady her.

She squirmed after a bit, feeling heavy and exposed under his glare. He tried to smirk, but she could tell that it was strained, maybe even forced, and that his eyes were swimming with concern for her and her well-being. She wasn't used to Harvey being concerned. It was her job to be concerned over him, and if anything was telling of just how far gone she had become, the fact that he stood there being her pillar of strength, the fact that he felt it necessary to channel her, that was a cold reminder of where she was and that scared the hell out of her.

"I like it when you don't wear heels, we're the same height then," he teased, except it was a forced effort.

She hated it. Their relationship was easy, that is what made them work so well and the fact that it had somehow become difficult, well that was disconcerting for her. What a difference a day made. She was just marveling over how they finally seemed as though they were going back to normal and now, she was screwing it all up…

"Are you going to be okay," he demanded. His voice was strong and purposeful, as though his intent was to convince himself and her both that she would be.

"Yeah," she managed a quiet snort that she hoped would put him at ease and express just how irritated she was that he invaded her personal space and left her to deal with a whole new set of feelings and emotions swirling through her. Not to mention he scratched up her doorknob. She'd hardly forget that.

That broody look and clenched jaw is what she got for her response. He wasn't buying it, and his body language said as much. A fresh wave of inadequacy washed over her, because she was clearly losing her touch if she could no longer convince him of that anymore.

"I wish I could believe you," he replied sullenly.

They were her words. He had heard her before and now as they sunk in, the weight of them stung. "Get some sleep Jess," he said quietly.

He paused for a minute, so many emotions flickering across his face, as if his mind was going a million miles a second trying to figure out what to do or say next. He reached out to her, stopped himself, and then after a few seconds, reached out again, until he had both of his palms, warm, strong, comforting resting against her cheek, and his thumbs just beneath her very startled eyes. She didn't like the way he was studying her, regarding her. She didn't like that she must have been in such dire straits that he resorted to physical contact and attempts at comforting gestures that socially conscious people did. Harvey wasn't socially conscious, he was just Harvey. He was sardonic and witty, and their best communication was through barbs and banter not…not this. He sighed heavily before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead, and something inside of her threatened to break. She exhaled a shaky breath instead. He pulled away and stepped outside of her door, giving her a quick wave, no smirk, no smile, just stoicism. He closed the door behind himself and she waited until she heard the ding of the elevator doors closing before she stumbled into her room.

She wished she could believe herself. But she didn't.


End file.
